Chapter Two
I SAW the familiar sleek, black four-door BMW roll up, and I waved as he got out of the car and came around the front to step up on the curb to reach me. Watching him stride toward me took my breath away. He looked like he belonged in a fashion magazine, he was so perfect. The short, thick chestnut hair was styled back from his face, the cashmere and wool topcoat accentuated the breadth of his shoulders, and the heavy wool scarf was wrapped once around his neck and hung down between the lapels of the expensive piece of outerwear. The sweater and jeans underneath, the polished boots, he was a vision, and he was intent on reaching me. In contrast, I looked like some homeless guy he was going to give some loose change to.
It felt like I’d made a mistake, and I was embarrassed of how I looked, how I smelled, and I knew in that second that I shouldn’t have called.
“Web,” he cried out.
Until he called my name.
Nothing mattered after that.
I dropped my hiking backpack and lifted my arms to him, for him, waiting.
He rushed forward and lunged at me, hitting my chest hard, face pressed to the side of my neck as he wrapped me up so tight.
“Why’re you shaking?” I asked into his hair, squeezing him, loving the feel of the hard body plastered to mine, his lips opening on my throat.
“Because I missed you, idiot.” He clutched at me, lifting his head to meet my gaze. “Can you get in the car so I can kiss you?”
“Why, yessir,” I assured him.
He stepped back, took off one of his leather gloves, grabbed my hand, and laced his fingers into mine. I had no idea how cold my hands were until he touched me.
At the car, he let go of me, and I tossed my pack in the back seat as he got in and then climbed into the passenger seat. It smelled like leather inside and was, of course, immaculate.
“Nice,” I complimented him as I let the warm air wrap around me.
He hit the lock on the door, making escape impossible, and I turned to give him a grin over the transparent action.
When I saw his chin quiver, I reached for him.
My fingers wrapped gently around his throat. My thumb smoothed over his jaw as I leaned him toward me. “Lemme take a long hot shower when I get to your place, okay? Then once I’m clean, I can get in your bed.”
He squinted fast, and I could tell he was on the verge of tears.
“Since when do you cry for me?” I teased him, trying to jolt him out of his mood.
“Since I never thought I’d see you again.”
“That’ll never happen,” I assured him. “And when I finally find a home, maybe you would even consider coming to see me.”
“Or maybe you could just stay here.”
“Cy, don’t—”
“Stop,” he barked at me, hands on my face, drawing me forward, leaning in at the same time so that we met in a rough kiss, hard and furious, the action filled with how much he had missed me.
I felt the same. Whenever we were separated, I ached for him.
His lips parted instantly for my tongue, and I reacquainted myself with his hot mouth, savoring his presence, intoxicated with him that fast.
He crawled over the console between us and was in my lap, all six feet one of him, twisting, turning, straddling my hips, shoving his hard groin into my abdomen. I was grinding my own painful erection along his crease as his breath got choppy. There were hands fumbling fast, tongues tangling, my long deep moan and the answering tightness in him. It felt so good the way he clutched at me, bit my bottom lip and pressed his chest to mine.
“Missed you,” he choked out. “Always.”
I reached up, my hands on his face leaning him back, gazing up at him. “Me too. Take me home before I fuck you in the car.”
His eyes were slits of need, and when I lifted up, a low, sexy sound, a purring growl, rose out of him. “The car sounds fine.”
I arched an eyebrow for him. “Does it, Dr. Benning?” I teased him, enunciating his title. “And do you think we’d make the society page?”
“Leave it to you to be the one thinking of my career at a time like this.”
I laughed, grabbing him tight, crushing him to me and letting out a deep breath as I did it.
“How long can you stay?”
“Couple days,” I said, closing my eyes, the warmth of his body, how hard he was hugging me back, and his breath down the side of my neck making me want to remain there and never move. “God, I love holdin’ you.”
He didn’t say anything, just squeezed me back.
HE WAS quiet on the ride to Potrero Hill, where he lived. I loved his house and his sleepy neighborhood, which was far enough out to be away from the hustle and bustle of downtown San Francisco but still close to the hospital where he worked. I always enjoyed my visits to him, sporadic though they were, over the past three years.
As we sat in silence, the rain hitting the windshield the only noise there was, I reached for his hand.
“Don’t you wanna talk to me none?” I asked him, lacing my fingers into his as I rested our clasped hands on my thigh.
“No, Web,” he said, his voice gravelly. “I want to drug you and keep you locked in my bedroom for the rest of your life, that’s what I want.”
I chuckled. “You’d get sick of me right quick if I was here all the time.”
He shook his head. “That’s the part you don’t get—I could never tire of you.”
I scoffed at him as he turned onto his street. “You don’t know from— Who’s that in your driveway?”
“What?”
“Look.”
As he turned in, hitting the electric garage door opener, we both saw the light go on in the monster SUV as a woman got out of the driver’s side and the two back doors were thrown open. I saw the three kids get out, like steps from biggest to smallest, and all dash into the garage to get out of the rain as the door slowly rose. Cy pulled in and parked, and we both got out as the woman came toward him.
“Cy,” she gasped, and I could tell two things just from glancing at her. First, that she’d been crying, and second, that she was Cyrus’s sister.
She looked like her brother—same delicate, fragile, sharply cut features; thick, wavy chestnut brown hair; bottomless gold-brown eyes fringed in long curling lashes; and golden skin. Because she looked like him, I felt that immediate kinship.
“Oh.” She sucked in her breath when she saw me. “I didn’t know you had comp—”
“Are you a cowboy,” the smallest boy asked me, head tilted all the way back as he looked up at me.
I knelt down on one knee in front of him, tipping my own hat back, taking in the red felt one he was wearing, the boots he had on along with his flannel pajamas, and the rope he was carrying. “I am. And I see you are as well.”
He nodded, lifting his boot for me. “I don’t have spurs, though.”
“You don’t need none,” I assured him seriously. “Real cowboys can guide their horses with just the pressure from their legs and thighs. Cowboys only wear spurs in the movies.”
His eyes lit up as he walked forward, hand on my thigh as he looked into my face. “Really?”
“Oh, yessir.”
“You ever go to a rodeo?” The oldest asked, moving closer as the middle one, who was just staring at me, edged in.
“Yessir,” I told him. “I’m a bull rider. You?”
“Me?” he said like I was stupid. “I’m not old enough to be in a rodeo.”
I nodded. “How old are you?”
The middle one reached out and touched the brim of my hat as the oldest ran his eyes all over me before answering.
“I’m eight.”
“Oh,” I shrugged. “Yeah you’re right, I didn’t do no barrel racin’ until I was ten.”
“I’ve seen the barrel racing on TV. You did that when you were ten?”
“Yep. My brother had a beautiful quarter horse named Dave, and he let me ride him.”
“Dave’s a weird name for a horse.”
“Don’t I know it, but you couldn’t tell that to Spencer.”
“Who’s Spencer?”
“My brother.”
“So your brother named his horse Dave.”
“Yessir, he did, and the rest of us just had to just go along with it.”
“Where’s your brother now?”
“He died in the war,” I told him. “Over there in Iraq.”
“We learned about the war at school.”
I smiled at him.
“My name’s Tristan,” he told me, “but you can call me Tris.”
“Well it’s good to meet you, Tris,” I said, offering him my hand. “I’m Weber Yates.”
He took my hand and shook it.
“I’m Pip,” the little one said, putting out his hand too, the other sliding over the top of my thigh, petting me, though it was doubtful he was even paying attention to what he was doing.
“His name’s Phillip,” Tristan told me. “He just has trouble saying his name.”
I nodded, taking the sticky little hand in mine before I turned my head to the little boy now leaning against me. “And who is this?”
“That’s Micah. He doesn’t talk anymore. He used to, but he stopped.”
Tristan and Phillip had dark midnight-blue eyes, deep cobalt. Micah’s eyes were lighter, brighter, almost the color of the bluebonnets I had grown up with in Texas. They were all three as cute as they could be.
“You don’t never talk?” I asked Micah.
He shook his head.
“Well, that’s all right, talkin’s overrated anyhow. You hungry?”
He nodded and put an arm around my neck, leaning heavily.
I looked up at Cyrus and his sister then, and to my surprise, they both looked sort of startled and at a loss. “Sorry, I got caught up,” I apologized, rising, bringing Micah up with me since it seemed like that was what he wanted. “My name’s Weber Yates, ma’am,” I said, touching the brim of my hat. “It’s nice to meet you and your boys.”
Her mouth was open, but no sound came out. She was staring at me and then Micah and then back to me.
“Web, this is my sister, Carolyn Easton. Lyn, this is Weber, that I told you about.”
She was nodding. “Oh, yes, the cowboy.”
“Yes.”
“Can we feed y’all?” I asked her. “Would that be all right?”
“That would be fine,” she told me, her voice dropping out on her. “But, uhm, they don’t eat anything. They’re the worst eaters ever.”
“Yeah, but,” I began, turning to Micah so we were staring at each other’s faces from very close proximity. “Cowboys always eat breakfast. Y’all will eat that, right? Some pancakes and eggs and bacon and such?”
He nodded.
“I will,” Tristan told me.
“Pancakes!” Phillip yelled loudly.
“I can make that,” I told Cyrus, turning to look at him.
“I’ll make it,” he assured me. “You need to take a shower and get out of your wet clothes before you catch pneumonia.”
I smiled at him because the man never stopped worrying.
“And you need to just sit down and relax.”
“Well, maybe just a quick shower, and then the boys can show me how your game thing works that you got last time I was here.”
“The Wii.” He chuckled.
“Yeah, that,” I told him as Micah started fiddling with the collar of my jacket and Phillip slipped his hand into mine.
“That sounds good.” He smiled at me, and I saw his eyes were filling suddenly.
“Looks like you had a long day yourself.” I smiled at him, leaning forward to kiss his forehead.
“Oh!” Tristan gasped. “You kissed Uncle Cyrus.”
I looked down at him. “I did. But that don’t bother you none, does it?”
He thought about it a minute. “No. Josie Dole has two moms. She’s in the same class as me, and Jake Finnegan, he has two dads, but he’s in Mr. Wong’s class.”
“Well see there, you know all about this sort of thing since you’re a man of the world.”
“You think I’m a man?”
“You’re eight, ain’t ya?” I squinted at him.
“Yes, I am.”
“Well then.”
He nodded fast, smiling big.
I looked back at their mother. “I reckon we’re ready to go in. Cy, will you grab my pack?”
“Course.” He sucked in a breath. “Everybody in.”
The house was huge. He had 7400 square feet: five bedrooms, four bathrooms in a house that looked more like it belonged on the edge of the ocean than on the end of the street. I always thought beach house when I was in it, from how light and airy it felt inside. But even though it was huge, the views of the city out of the enormous windows, along with the masculine feel of the house, never failed to make me feel welcome. As much as it made no sense, as much as I could never stay (there was no need for cowboys in San Francisco), it felt like home every time I walked through the front door. It smelled good too. Between the leather furniture and polished wood floors, I felt the calm sink into me like it never failed to.
I put Micah down on the couch and smiled at all three boys. “Y’all, I have to shower, but you get the machine there warmed up and I’ll be back out to sit with ya. Your uncle said he’d cook, so we all need to thank him.”
And the two boys did with Micah looking over at him.
“Thanks, guys.” Cyrus smiled at them and then looked at Micah. “And I heard you, okay?”
Micah nodded and then looked back up at me.
“Be right back,” I told him before I walked toward the hall that led to the bedrooms, stopping only to bend and grab my pack.
I walked to Cyrus’s bedroom, put the pack on the floor, and was shedding articles of clothing on my way to the shower, starting with my boots. Under the hot spray minutes later, I heard the snick of the door before I turned my head and smiled at my host.
“You can’t come in.” I chuckled. “Go make breakfast for them boys.”
“Jesus, Weber.” He scowled at me, looking me over. “You’re skin and bones.”
I glared back. “I don’t think so.” I turned so he could see my chest. “Put your hands on me. I’m all muscle.”
“You’re six three. You should weigh at least a hundred and ninety to two hundred pounds. What do you weigh now, like one seventy?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well you need to eat, a lot. And… come here.”
I moved so he could touch me and smiled as I saw him wince looking at the fresh bruises I was sporting, the new scar that ran down the side of my ribs on the left side, and the healing gash that was now soft pink skin bisecting my right pectoral.
He shivered.
“Bull almost had me,” I teased him, waggling my eyebrows at him.
“You think it’s funny?”
From the stricken look on his face, I was guessing not. “Cy—”
“Shut up.”
I didn’t know whether to go back to soaping my body or just continue to stand there.
“God, look at you,” he groaned after a second.
I grunted. “Not pretty enough to fuck, huh? Freckles and moles and white pasty skin don’t do it for you no more?”
His eyes finally lifted to mine. “You’re such an idiot. Don’t you know I love all your freckles, and your body is beautiful and powerful and… I just want to be under you right now.”
“Well unfortunately”—I grinned—“we’re gonna have to wait on that, darlin’.”
His sigh was loud and deep like he just didn’t know what to do with me.
“I, uhm, don’t have nothin’ clean to wear. I don’t suppose you have—”
“I have the sweats I bought the last time you were here and the long-sleeved T-shirts you like to sleep in. Just let me find them.”
“You didn’t throw them out?”
“I couldn’t.”
“I’m glad.” I smiled at him. “Now close the door, ’cause I’m freezin’, and go find out what the hell is wrong with your sister.”
But he didn’t move.
“You all right?”
“You cut your hair.”
I had chopped it off ages ago and now made sure to keep it short. “It’s too much trouble to take care of long hair on the road.”
“It looks darker.”
“Still just plain old red.” I smiled at him. “Like it’s always been.”
“Nothing plain about you,” he said, leaning forward.
I met him halfway, the kiss soft but firm, sucking his bottom lip into my mouth for just a moment.
“I love that you kissed me in front of the kids,” he told me.
“Course.”
“Course,” he repeated, before he turned and left me.
Sometimes the man was just so odd.
When I got out, my pack was empty, the clothes all gone, and my wallet was on the nightstand on what was my side of the bed (closest to the door) whenever I was there. I found sweats, thick, heavy crew socks, and a long-sleeved T-shirt on the bed waiting for me. After I dried myself off, I pulled it all on and walked back out to the kitchen.
“Weber!” Phillip—Pip—yelled, flying at me going full speed and leaping at the last minute.
I plucked him easily from the air, tucked him against my chest, and carried him to the bar on the side of the kitchen that looked out on the great room. The other two boys were already sitting on the tall leather-backed stools eating with their mother as Cyrus flipped pancakes.
“You gonna eat?” I asked Phillip.
He nodded fast before I put him down beside Micah.
“How is it?” I asked Micah.
He beamed up at me, and when I tousled his hair, he reached for my hand.
I took the little hand in mine and squeezed it for a second as I realized that I had not eaten since the day before. “God, I’m starvin’.”
“Sit down,” Cyrus ordered me as I walked around into the kitchen.
I moved up behind him, leaned over and wrapped my arms around the man. I loved hugging him, and the amazing part was that he always let me.
“Thank you for cookin’ so late,” I said, kissing his ear. “I appreciate it, Cy.”
He stilled in my arms and let his head fall back into the crook of my neck. I supported his weight and kissed his forehead, loving the feel of his silky hair in my face.
“So, Weber—” Carolyn cleared her throat. “—where did you come from?”
I gave him a last kiss, a final squeeze, and then stepped free and walked back over to where she and the boys were. “I was in Guthrie, Oklahoma, at a stock show. I showed some horses for a man, did some saddle bronc for exhibition.”
She nodded, her lips pressed together. “And where are you off to next?”
“Alaska.” I sighed. “Gotta be out near Anchorage before Christmas.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I got me a job for the holidays,” I answered, noticing that Tristan was picking at his eggs. “And I need the money.”
“I—”
“Pardon me,” I stopped her, leaning forward, chin in my hand as I looked at her oldest. “You gotta eat them eggs, Tris, or you ain’t gonna get no bigger.”
His dark sapphire eyes flicked to mine.
“I swear you won’t. My mama told me and Spence that the only way we got so big was because we ate everything that was put down in front of us and we slept when we was told.”
“If I eat everything, I’ll get as big as you?”
“Yessir,” I assured him.
“But I don’t like plain eggs.”
“You like cheese on ’em?”
He nodded.
“Well lemme see what we can do.”
I went to the refrigerator, found a bag of shredded cheese, and brought it back and told him to tell me when. Of course, Micah lifted his plate for some, and Pip just started chanting the word for me until I sprinkled at least four tablespoons on his eggs as well.
Once they were all settled, I put it back, took the plate with the pile of eggs, bacon, and pancakes that Cy offered me, kissed him, and leaned against the bar so I could look at the boys and their mother.
“Sorry, you were sayin’?”
Her breath quavered. “Weber, is the job in Alaska going to turn into something more?”
“Not that I know of.” I smiled at her and then at Cy as he put a bottle of Tabasco down beside me. “Thank you.”
“And here,” he told me, placing the tall glass of milk he’d poured for me close as well.
“Y’all want some milk?” I asked the boys.
“Juice is better,” Tristan told me.
“Not this late at night, and milk is always better’n juice. Or water. Water’s best.”
They asked Cy for milk, and Micah smiled at me when he started drinking his.
“Weber.”
I looked back at Carolyn. “Ma’am?”
“Please, call me Lyn, okay?”
I smiled at her.
She sighed. “Would you consider staying here for the holidays and watching my kids for me?”
I squinted at her, certain she’d lost her mind.
“I… the reason I’m here right now is that my husband left for Las Vegas this afternoon with our nanny.”
“On a trip?” Maybe I was missing something.
She shook her head.
But why would her husband go on a trip with the nanny if the kids were…? Oh. Got it. God, I really was tired if it took me that long to figure things out. “I’m sorry,” was all I could think of to say.
“Me too.”
I turned and looked at Cy, and he looked pained and mad and worried all at the same time.
“Weber.”
Looking back at her I saw how she was chewing her bottom lip.
“I would ask my parents to help me, but they live in Half Moon Bay, and Tristan has soccer and Judo and piano, and Micah has to see his therapist, and he has an art class.”
Why was she—
“And I didn’t make any arrangements for Pip because I thought I didn’t have to, but now his preschool is out for the holidays, and he still has a music class, and they all have gymnastics, and so now… now I’m screwed.”
I felt the weight of her stare.
“Unless I get some help.”
“Ma’am—”
“Lyn,” she corrected, eyes steady on me.
I shook my head.
“Weber,” she said, sucking in her breath. “I really need you.”
I studied her face and then smiled. “I’m not one to accept charity, Lyn. I thank you for your kind offer, but you don’t know me from—”
“My brother knows you,” she told me, interrupting. “And I see how you are with my boys firsthand, and I have never seen them take to anyone so fast, especially….” She opened her eyes wide before looking at Micah and then back to me. “I could drop them off every morning, and you can have my car, and I’d be here between five thirty and six every night to pick them up. I mean, starting Monday I’m in trouble. I don’t have the time to find someone I trust, and I can’t afford to not work, as I’m about to be a single mother.”
I stared at her.
“I just… need a break.” Her chin quivered. “I mean, I have the money. I could hire someone, some stranger, but these are my kids, you know? I could run to my parents or here to my brother or even to my older brother and my sister-in-law if they weren’t going out of town for the holidays”—she was rambling—“even though Rachel’s perfect and I’m not—but the fix would still end up being a stranger because they all work and my folks just live too damn far away!”
“Mom, you’re not supposed to use that word.”
“I know, Tris.” She took a breath, clearly willing herself to not break down. She closed her eyes a moment, and when she opened them, they were red but there were no tears.
Jesus, what the hell was I supposed to do?
“I don’t want to send them some place I don’t know or leave them with someone I don’t trust. Please.”
I turned to look at Cy.
“Don’t even look at me,” he grumbled. “For once you can’t accuse me of plotting. It’s not my fault that her piece of crap hus—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off, scowling. “We do not speak ill of people’s parents, ever.”
He huffed out a breath even as I felt his hand slide between my shoulder blades.
“Weber.”
I looked back at Carolyn.
“It’s only for two weeks, and then Tristan and Micah will both go back to school, and Pip’s preschool will reopen as well. I just need a temporary fix.”
“I wouldn’t feel right takin’ money from you for watchin’ your boys. It would be my pleasure to do so.”
“Yes, but it’s hard work.” She sighed. “It is. How does twenty-five hundred sound?”
“Like not enough.” Cy was indignant.
“That would be more than enough,” I told her. “And far too generous.”
“No,” she assured me. “Cy’s right. If you made twenty an hour and you have an eight hour day, then—”
“How ’bout a thousand and I won’t feel quite so crappy takin’ you up on your kind offer.”
“Oh, Weber, a thousand is—”
“I’ll do it for that and not a penny more.”
She gasped. “Really?” Suddenly she was verging on tears, but they were the good kind. “You will? You’ll watch the boys for me?”
“Yes, ma’am, it would be my pleasure.”
“Ohmygod, thank you!”
I turned to look at Cy. His fingers, which had been combing through the hair at the nape of my neck, had stilled as he held his breath. “Would that be all right if I stayed two weeks? Would you be okay with me bein’ here that long?”
He glared at me. “You have known for the past three years what I would really like, so don’t ask stupid questions like that.”
“Come here,” I said, taking his hand and walking him through the great room to the huge glass doors. They looked like giant wooden frames, and the first time I had seen them, I had been confused. But you pushed on one side, and it angled open like a giant window, nothing to slide.
He was staring up at me when I turned around to face him.
“I don’t know what you had planned, but that would put me here through Christmas, and I don’t want to cause any—”
“Just stay.” He nodded, smiling at me. “Please.”
I grabbed him and hugged him, burying my face in the side of his neck, pressing a kiss there as his hands fisted in my T-shirt.
“Okay,” he said, sucking in his breath. “Now come eat already before you pass out.”
I followed him back to the kitchen and ate standing up, the boys chattering at me as their mother looked on. Afterward, I had them help me wash the dishes, and they all formed a little assembly line. Carolyn told me I was an angel straight from heaven, and when I explained that I was actually from somewhere else, she laughed really hard.
I went into Cy’s bedroom to call Aidan’s brother in Alaska, and when he found out I wasn’t coming, I had never heard such surprise. Apparently, Aidan had spoken out of turn, and his brother had made no plans to hire me. He thought there might be a job in another couple of weeks or so, but he couldn’t say for certain. So I had crossed the country on a maybe instead of a for sure and could have kicked myself for taking Aidan at his word. I knew better. The man had wanted to get into my pants, and that was all. I really was not that bright.
Putting the phone down, I saw a face peeking around the corner at me.
“I am so stupid, little man,” I told Phillip.
“No you’re not. Lizzie in my class, she’s stupid. She eats her boogers. You don’t do that. I’ve been watching.”
I grunted and gestured for him. He ran and leaped and scrambled up on the bed by me, and together we crawled to the end of the bed and looked at the TV.
“You wanna get the remote?” I asked him, pointing at it maybe four feet away.
“Nope. You wanna get it?”
“Nope.” I yawned.
“Call Micah.”
Such good ideas he had. I yelled for Micah, and he was there seconds later. We both pointed at the remote, and he grabbed it and then got on Cy’s enormous California King with us. Tristan joined us soon after, his Nintendo DS in hand, using the stylus as he lay beside Micah.
“What’re your Mom and Uncle Cy doin’?” I asked him.
“Drinking tea and talking,” he told me.
I made a noise of disgust, and Tristan nodded.
“I know, talking… bleh.”
When I smiled he smiled back, and then I turned on the TV. It was on ESPN, and before I could hear the complaints. I changed it. I flipped channels until I got to Animal Planet and River Monsters was on. Tristan said it was good, so we all gave it our attention.
First I was leaning my cheek on my closed fist, and then my head was on my folded arms. Once Phillip—Pip—climbed on my back and put his head down on my shoulder, I started to fade. Tristan moved so he was leaning on my right side, and Micah was on the left, tucked in tighter. They were all keeping me warm, and I was a goner.
I woke up what felt like minutes later and realized that the TV was off, as were all the lights but for one. The boys were gone, and instead there were lips kissing slowly up my spine. I made a noise of appreciation, feeling the T-shirt pushed up between my shoulder blades.
“Carolyn took the boys home—after much protesting, I might add. They all wanted to stay and sleep with you, but I explained that I had first dibs.”
I grunted. “How long was I asleep?”
“Couple of hours.”
Rolling over on my back, I looked up at him in the low light.
“You should get under the covers and go to sleep. You’re exhausted.”
When I lifted my hands to his face, he turned his head and kissed my palm. “Thank you for asking your sister to take pity on me.”
“I didn’t, you know I didn’t. She decided all on her own that you were to be trusted.”
“You’re mad.”
“Of course I’m mad. Because you won’t just stay with me and let me take care of you.” He squinted down at me.
“Nope,” I agreed.
He moved to pull away, but I held him tight, our eyes locked together.
“Let go.”
I shook my head and eased him down slowly until our foreheads were pressed together, the two of us now with closed eyes, just quietly breathing.
When I lifted toward him, his lips slanted down over mine, and I let everything fall away as I kissed him. Really, if I had anything to offer at all, I would lay claim to him, and no one but me would ever have him ever again. But as it was, all I could be was a diversion until he realized he could do so much better. He was a neurosurgeon. I was a homeless drifter, and this wasn’t a fairytale.
“Weber,” he gasped, parting our lips. “Stop.”
But this was what I had to offer, all that I was good for. “Doc,” I growled, tugging at his clothes. “Take these off.”
“No!” he yelled at me, yanking away, pointing toward the pillows. “Get under the damn covers so I can hold you while you sleep.”
I looked at him and was surprised to find no desire there at all, no lust riding him, simply furrowed brows and dark, flashing golden-brown eyes.
Moving fast, I got under the covers as the light was turned off and the room was plunged into semi-darkness.
“Come here, ass.” I laughed at him.
He was tangled around me in seconds, and as I tucked his head under my chin and held him tight, I felt him tremble.
“No one but you ever holds me like this.”
“Dumb fuckers,” I assured him. “They’re missin’ out on somethin’ great.”
“You’re the only one who knows I love it, because you’re the only one who ever made me do it.”
The man was a natural snuggler, loved to be cuddled and nestled in beside me. I had been surprised the first time when he had tried to squirm away. But as I held him pressed to my heart, I had felt him surrender, felt him clutch me back, tremble in my arms, and whimper softly.
“You’re the only one who had the balls to try and make me submit.”
“That’s right.” I smiled in the dark, rubbing my cheek in the silky waves. “You didn’t want to do this at all the first time, did ya?”
“No—” He sucked in his breath. “—because I was the dumb fucker back then.”
I chuckled, and he pressed tighter.
“Thank you for wanting to hold me, Weber.”
“Thank you for lettin’ me, Cyrus.”
His sigh of pleasure made me smile as my eyes drifted closed.